Natalia
by KeepCalmAndKeepWriting
Summary: Can be read as a sequel to 'Things to Do', or just stand alone : Arthur and Eames have to face up to the various issues being adoptive parents brings- i.e. Day-Care...


Hey- so I'm back (I missed you guys too ;)

Now this, I'm just warning you, is ridiculously fluffy and domestic etc. I NEEDED A BREAK FROM THE ANGST D:

(Also- apologies in advance, I have never lived in California, or even visited America for that matter, so I guessed everything- I don't even know if you guys _have_ Rice Krispies in the States? Pah- well, at least I tried :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Arthur was faintly aware of a gentle tugging on his little finger. Gentle, but insistent. He groaned and pulled away into the warmth of the duvet, pressing back against the strong lines of Eames' back.

"Arfa? Arfa. Wake up now please."

The small voice was muffled from under the blankets, but the persistent tone was evident. He moved out from under the covers reluctantly, and opened his eyes.

His four-year old daughter stared defiantly back at him, cuddly rabbit in hand, her wide-eyed gaze unwavering-

"I want chocolate milk, but the shelf is too big."

Arthur chuckled, voice sleep-roughened. He remembered the morning he had come downstairs to find the little girl in the middle of the sitting room, playing with Lego- having somehow managed to escape the confines of her cot and navigate the stairs in the pitch black. Arthur had nearly had a heart attack, but she had simply demanded Rice-Kripsies-Now-thank-you-very-much. Eames had just leant against the door frame and laughed and laughed until he cried.

No, their daughter was certainly not your average child.

But then again, Arthur thought wryly, neither were her parents.

They had found her after 5 months of searching, in a remote orphanage several hundred miles north-east of Moscow. It had been freezing, snow billowing around them, and yet was somehow even colder in the building. They had been led through the orphanage, past the grey, bleakly furnished school room, and then the play room, avoiding the blank gazes of the children; devoid of interest, past caring. Eames had shifted closer to him, unnerved, and whispered "Jesus Christ, can we take them all out of his dump Arthur?" Arthur had shaken his head, almost wishing it were a possibility, and inwardly promising to leave a large donation on their way out.

The babies' ward had been just as welcoming. The white-washed walls were stained, the plaster crumbling and the only decoration was a faded print of Madonna and Child, which surveyed the drab collection of half-a-dozen cribs. The nurse had shown them each child, babbling in Russian so quickly Arthur had difficulty understanding.

"Arthur," Eames had suddenly called softly, from the corner of the room, "come over here." Lying in the cot beside him was a tiny girl- no older than 3 months, with a mop of dark hair. She was silent and still in sleep, an almost imperceptible frown creasing her forehead.

"She looks like you," Eames had murmured. The nurse snorted.

"_You don't want this child." _She'd told them firmly in Russian,_ "No-one does. Something is wrong with her- she sleeps little and is too quiet when awake. Her parents were sent to hell- and she is cursed because of it- devil eyes. You don't want her."_

"Devil eyes?" Arthur asked, frowning, looking back to the sleeping infant. Eames brushed a hand gently over the girl's hair and her eyes snapped open at once. Arthur realised instantly what the nurse meant. The girl's left eye was a severe, steely grey, synonymous with the orphanage itself, and the right was the most impossible, incredibly blinding blue.

"Oh," Arthur breathed.

"She's beautiful," Eames had said, reverent, and that was that.

Natalia was theirs.

"Arfa? Chocolate milk." Natalia insisted, tugging at his fingers again. "Pweease," she added on an after-thought, knowing how pleased Arthur was when she showed some sign of taking in his lessons on etiquette. She also knew how he distinctly _less_ pleased he was when she managed to remember Eames' lessons on English swear words.

"Go on then darling, go see to little Miss. Madam- it's your turn after all." Eames' voice was gruff and husky, as he rolled over to face them.

"Don't you want to come into bed instead Natalia?" Arthur offered, hopeful. She was often quite content to simply clamber up and wriggle into the middle space between them.

"No," she said, adamantly shaking her head, dark curls bouncing, "I want some milk 'fore nursery." She fixed Arthur with a steely glare, as though daring him to suggest otherwise, her blue eye shockingly bright in the dim, morning light.

Eames huffed a laugh behind him. "I swear she gets more like you every bloody day," he muttered, then dodged as Arthur aimed a not-so-gentle elbow in his gut.

"_Fine. _Fine. I'm getting up." Arthur tsked in annoyance, gave one languid stretch across the duvet (smiled when he felt Eames' gaze trace the taut muscles) then launched himself out of bed.

"Happy now?" he asked Natalia, looking down at her, eyebrow raised. Natalia brought her rabbit up to her face and smiled, one of those heart-stopping, resolve-crumbling, unbearably-adorable smiles.

"Yes. Thank-you," then she reached up, took one of his hands and led him out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Eames' muffled laughter following them.

* * *

"Rice Krispies?" Arthur offered when he got into the kitchen, lifting Natalia up onto one of the bar stools. They had long since stopped fearing her falling off. She was terrifyingly competent for a four year old.

"No-I want Coco Pops with chocolate straws and then Dinosaur Toast with jam." Terrifyingly competent and scarily articulate.

"Dinosaur Toast?" Arthur asked in mock horror, searching in the drawer before finding the special Dinosaur biscuit cutter that Eames had bought on a whim, and wielding it before her.

"Yay!" Natalia clapped her hands in glee, beaming.

"Sure you don't fancy... some nice grapefruit? Or maybe 'Fruit & Fibre'?" Arthur held up the offending fruit and box of cereal, biting back a smile.

"No!" she squealed indignantly, before collapsing into giggles. She was more than smart enough to know it was all just a game.

"Well, if you _insist," _Arthur gave an overly exaggerated sigh and set about making chocolate milk.

Eames appeared sometime later, dressed in black trousers and simple blue shirt that hugged his shoulders, lazily swinging a tie in one hand.

Arthur hummed appreciatively over his mug of coffee, and Eames looked up, eyebrow raised. Arthur let his gaze drag deliberately once over Eames' body, and the confusion melted instantly as Eames gave him a wicked grin.

Eames turned to Natalia, who was frowning in concentration over a crayon drawing at the breakfast bar. "Hello poppet," he whispered in her ear, before sweeping her off the stool and over one shoulder. Natalia squealed and wriggled furiously.

"Take note of Eames's outfit today, Natalia," Arthur called casually, "this is how he _should_ dress."

Eames smirked and lazily gave him the middle finger behind Natalia's back.

And so began an average day in their household.

Natalia, dressed in the only item of clothing she would wear at the moment, a flower printed navy cotton dress, was watching the Tweenies which Eames had brought back from England on DVD for her. Arthur disapproved of the slightly scary puppets, but Natalia loved it. She may be frighteningly intellectual, but that didn't mean she wasn't still a sucker for Kid's TV.

Eames cornered Arthur by the toaster, leaning in against him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. Arthur smiled, and didn't protest.

Eames didn't move away after however, but rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder and surveyed the relative disaster zone that was their living room. He was frowning ever so slightly, and Arthur knew something was troubling him.

Sure enough, Eames gave a sigh, and spun Arthur round to face him.

"Natalia was asking about her mother again last night when I was reading to her," he said quietly, expression pinched, "and why she doesn't look like either of us."

"Christ- does she _have_ to be so aware?"Arthur muttered, running a hand over his face. "I still think she's too young to know everything..." He paused, "what did you tell her?"

Eames gave a wry smile, "same as last time."

Arthur's chest gave a strange lurch. He smiled, throat tightening, because he would never forget the time he'd come home early to find Natalia sitting in Eames' lap on the carpet, staring avidly into the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

She had reached out one chubby fingered hand, clumsily tracing her face, and then Eames' in the reflection. She had pulled at her hair, watching as the reflection did the same, then pulled at Eames', laughing when he tickled her in defence.

Then she went strangely quiet.

Arthur could remember her expression, the cataloguing, calculating expression Eames swore was the exact same he wore when working something out. Natalia had reached for her different coloured eyes in the reflection, and then for Eames' pale blue ones, hand splayed on the glass. She'd frowned, realising the differences.

"Why?"

And Arthur had panicked, because he _knew_ they were going to have to answer difficult questions eventually, but he hadn't expected them so _soon_. Eames, however, didn't miss a beat.

He turned Natalia round to face him, smiling gently. "You are different to me and Arthur, but that's not a bad thing. You're much nicer than us anyway, and what's even better is that you're _you_, the only one in the whole world. That's why you're so special," and he had prodded her light-heartedly in the chest.

Natalia had smiled and Arthur had disappeared to the bathroom, not wanting either of them to see his sudden tears.

"And did it work a second time round?" Arthur asked warily. Eames shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so- one day we're going to have to tell her about her mother, but she seemed happy...until she started asking why she doesn't call either of us Dad- unlike the children at nursery."

"_Shit,_" Arthur breathed. This had always been an issue, but never with Natalia herself. He remembered the doctor frowning when Arthur had mentioned it, saying that first names were too formal, and would unsettle her. It was best to 'play it normal until they're old enough' with adopted children, he had said. But neither Eames nor Arthur felt entirely comfortable about instilling such a lie in a baby. First names worked for everyone else, Eames had argued, why not for them?

"Well, my thoughts exactly," Eames said, expression serious, "but she's so ridiculously clever I decided there was no point avoiding the question. I just explained that yes, while neither of us _were_ her actual father that didn't mean we loved her any less compared to real fathers, that loving was the most important part anyway, but she could call us what she liked and it wouldn't change anything."

Arthur could've kissed him. So he did. It was only brief, but it said everything Arthur didn't -_thank-you, thank-you so much for doing that, you know I find it hard and Jesus, have I told you what a wonderful father you are?-_

"And what did she say to that?" he asked, pulling away, a little breathless.

"EAMMME-" came the shrill cry from the dining room, answering the questions for them. Eames beamed and turned on his heels.

"Don't go to her like that- you'll spoil her," Arthur chided without feeling. Eames winked at him over his shoulder.

Arthur sighed, and wandered back into the kitchen to clear up the post-breakfast mess. There was an awful lot more mess now they had a fully-mobile toddler, not that Eames hadn't tried his absolute hardest to keep the place untidy before. It didn't annoy Arthur as much as it used to though. These days, whenever he came across a stray pink sock, a half-knotted tie or a random cuddly toy- a warm curl of happiness settled in his stomach. This was his life. This was his family.

Eames had solved whatever drastic issue which had demanded his immediate attention, and had set Natalia up with more crayons and paper at the dining room table. He sauntered back into the kitchenette, leaning on the counter, rolling his shirt sleeves down over toned fore-arms and efficiently putting on cufflinks.

Arthur swallowed.

"What's the special occasion- or have you just decided to be cruel?" Arthur murmured, finger-tips brushing lightly down the shirt seam of one arm.

"Not that I don't love how much you appreciate shirts darling," Eames' eyes sparkled with humour, "but I'm meeting with Cameron this morning- remember? About the New York job?"

Arthur let his hand fall, eyes narrowing.

"You cannot be serious," he deadpanned.

"Absolutely and irrevocably pet- is there a problem?"

"Problem!" Arthur dropped his face into his hands in despair, "Eames, I've had the job interview with the Pentagon on the calendar for _6 weeks_! Who's going to take Natalia to day-care? Why didn't you check?"

"To be quite honest, I didn't know we had a calendar-" Eames protested.

In one succinct move, Arthur reached over Eames' shoulder, snatched the basic calendar from the wall behind him, and pointed angrily at the date-

19th February

Arthur – Pentagon Interview 9am—1pm

"If it isn't on the calendar, it doesn't exist," Arthur told him darkly, "and there is _nothing_ on the calendar about the New York job."

Eames scrubbed at his jaw and looked extremely guilty.

"Ariadne and Yusuf?" he suggested hopefully.

"Still honey-mooning in Canada," Arthur's voice was cold. "I can't believe you cocked this up Eames, this interview was an actual chance for us to raise our daughter with _legitimate_ money, we've wanted this for ages-"

"I'm sure the pay is shit anyway," Eames put in gently-

"Legitimate pay!" Arthur exclaimed.

"But not $4 million?" It was casual, but had the desired effect. Arthur froze, meeting Eames' gaze- checking he was being serious. Eames smiled wryly.

They hadn't done any major jobs in a while, both having agreed that all efforts should be focused on Natalia. But now she was a little older, they had discussed the possibility of one of them going back into the field. $4million would set them up comfortably for several years. It was too good an opportunity to miss.

But Arthur was still not happy.

"I don't trust Cameron," he said.

"And I don't trust the US Government," Eames countered immediately.

Arthur paused trying to formulate feelings into words. He was being truthful. Cameron was an obnoxious swine, and people died under his leadership.

"Don't you dare get yourself into any shit," he said finally, code for _Alright you win, but if you even __**think**__ about getting hurt on this job I will castrate you_, but his tone was resigned, and he rested against Eames' side on the work-top.

"When do I ever?" Eames said lightly, and pulled Arthur into a tight hug, code for _I know, I know you worry- I'll be safe, I love you too_.

They stayed like that for some time, until Arthur pulled his head up to look Eames in the eye, forehead creasing in a frown.

"Does this mean I have to go to day-care?"

Eames laughed, messing up Arthur's hair with one hand.

"'Fraid so, don't fret- it's not that bad."

Arthur groaned, and pulled back scowling. Eames grinned.

"You know, I think you make quite a good house-husband" he mused, "just staying at home, doing the nursery runs, cleaning up while I go out earning the money..."

If looks could kill, Eames was fairly certain at that moment that Arthur's glare could have triggered The Apocalypse. He smirked.

"Oh come off it darling, you're the skinny one with the long dark lashes, ridiculously shiny hair, _exquisite_ cheekbones and all that. You are _clearly_ the more feminine one in this relationship- Arthur, you _exfoliate_ for christ's sake-"

And that was how Eames found himself flat on his back on the kitchen tiles, having had his legs kicked out from under him, with Arthur straddling his chest, pressing the barrel of a gun to Eames' temple.

"This feminine enough for you?" Arthur asked casually, eyebrow raised, and not even the slightest bit out of breath.

Eames stared, wide-eyed for a few seconds, before letting his head fall back against the tiles with a thud, eyes closing, smiling ruefully.

"No fair Arthur. You I know I find this...arousing."

"Later, Mr. Eames, much, much later," Arthur quipped with a smile, pulling himself back to his feet.

At that moment, Natalia rounded the corner of the counter, rabbit in one hand, crayon colouring in the other. She glanced at Eames briefly, lying on the floor, but as this was nothing she hadn't seen before- simply looked for Arthur for assistance.

"Nursery?" she asked.

* * *

"It's day-care Natalia, only English people call it 'nursery'," Arthur told her as he buttoned up her bright red raincoat.

"Day-care?" she asked, frowning. "But Eame said nursery."

"That's just because he's trying to annoy me- in America everyone calls it day-care, so you'd be best just to stick with that," Arthur said gently.

"I'm not Engish?" She was still frowning, the corners of the mouth pulled down.

"No, but you're not American either poppet, thank god," Eames called from the study. He came out, pulling on a knee-length black coat, and Arthur tried to ignore the fact his stomach bottomed out at the sight. "You're Russian sweetheart- which makes you much better than either of us."

"Why?" Natalia insisted.

Eames smiled broadly, and seamlessly whipped out an IPad from his bag and opened the WorldMap App. He pointed carefully to Russia on the map.

"See? Russia is bloody" ("Eames," Arthur warned, but was ignored) "_enormous. _You could fit at least a hundred Englands into it and a good few Americas too. And as well as being the biggest, it's also a beautiful country, believe me, I've been lots of times, and one day I'll take you." Eames scuffed her hair fondly, and Natalia smiled, satisfied.

Arthur really didn't have a clue how Eames did it.

"Right, come on you, we need to get to nursery or day-care or whatever you want to call it," Arthur reached down, and scooped Natalia up. "But first say good-bye to Eames, he's going to meet some important people today."

Eames grinned at him, and leant in to press a kiss on Natalia's forehead. "Have a good day sweetie, see you later."

"Bye bye," Natalia whispered, clenching and unclenching her fist in little wave from Arthur's arms.

Arthur stepped out into the chilly morning air, and unlocked the car. He strapped Natalia in securely into her car-seat and reached for the driver door. A large, warm hand caught his wrist before he got there.

"Don't I get a good-bye from you as well?" Eames asked softly.

Arthur turned slowly to meet Eames' intense gaze, and then yanked him close, kissing him roughly and perhaps with a little too much passion for 7:45am in the morning. It lasted too long than was publicly acceptable, but at the same time-was far too brief.

Arthur pulled back the tiniest amount, forehead resting on Eames'- his breath warm on his cheek against the February chill.

"Text me. Okay? When you get there. And then come home as soon as you can," he murmured, not opening his eyes, not wanting to see Eames' reaction at how fucking _worried_ he actually was, hoping his voice didn't betray the turmoil of emotions coursing through him.

"Of course," Eames promised quietly, and with one last press of his lips on Arthur's temple, he was gone.

Arthur slipped into the car with a sigh.

* * *

"You've not been nursery 'fore have you Arfa?" Natalia asked as they drove along. Arthur smiled at the use of 'nursery'. So, she had decided to trust Eames' judgement. Smart kid.

"No, I haven't, but I'm looking forward to it." That was a complete lie, but Natalia didn't need to know that. Arthur _hated_ this side of having children- as much as he loved Natalia, he couldn't stand the idea of having to talk with other parents. And, for some reason, at 'Sunnyside Day-Care', parents were 'invited' ("_on pain of death_" Eames had once told him darkly) to stay for the first half-an-hour on Monday mornings, a sort of twisted 'getting-to-know-you' session. Despite Eames' protests about these sessions, _he_ was _much_ better at dealing with the gushing, rich, _normal_, American mothers. Arthur had always argued he would be too tempted to shoot them.

"How big is the sky?" Natalia asked suddenly, gazing out of the window thoughtfully. She had been going through a phase recently of asking impossibly complex questions. Mostly, Eames would raise his eyebrows and look across at Arthur as if to say "_she's all yours"_- and Arthur would always answer with complete, logical, scientific truth, in a way that was probably far too advanced for a four year old.

Seeing an opportunity to do so now, Arthur launched into a long-winded explanation. It turned out to be fairly well-timed, as the car drew up in the parking lot next to the day-care just as Arthur finished- "so, roughly, it weighs about one millionth of the mass of the Earth- which is equal to about 570 trillion elephants... Okay?"

"Yes- I understand," Natalia said solemnly, even though Arthur was fairly sure she didn't.

"You going to be a Scientist when you're older, are you?" Arthur asked jokingly as he unbuckled Natalia from her car seat and let her hop out.

"No!" she said giggling, as though the idea was completely ridiculous.

"Alright then, what _do_ you want to be?" Arthur said, hands on hips, looking down at her with a smile.

"I wanna be like you and Eame," she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, gazing up at Arthur with huge, bright, mismatched eyes.

Shit.

Arthur fumbled on the car keys and had to stoop quickly to catch them when they slipped from his fingers.

Because shit.

He couldn't do this conversation on his own, he decided quickly, she needed Eames for this as well, hell, _he_ needed Eames for this. So he did something he always tried to avoid- he purposefully changed the topic from a difficult subject.

"How about we see if we can persuade Eames to make pizza with us tonight?"

'Sunnyside Day-Care' was everything a typical, wealthy suburban, all-American day-care should be. Large and spacious, with hand-drawn pictures blue-tacked on the walls, sandpits, ball-pools and more toys in one place than Arthur had seen in his entire life. Although Natalia didn't _need _day-care, they had both decided it was good for her to mix with other children on a regular basis, and Natalia seemed to enjoy it.

Arthur stepped out of the entrance corridor with trepidation, holding Natalia's small hand in his, and leading her into the main room. He automatically scanned the room for exits, cataloguing a possible 3, then looked for the best defensive position should a gun-fight break out over the sand trucks. Satisfied that he had decided on several feasible action plans in case of an emergency, Arthur let go of Natalia's hand and watched with a smile as she immediately went over to a small boy with curly blond hair. Then, he made his way somewhat reluctantly over to the group of parents standing to one side. It could be no worse than facing several hundred armed projections, Arthur told himself firmly.

Apparently however, it could.

"Which is yours?" A scarily perfect woman asked bluntly as he approached, her skin pulled too tight over her cheekbones. It took Arthur several seconds to realise she was talking about the children.

"My daughter is Natalia," he replied crisply, hoping the emphasis made his point of distaste clear. He gestured to the 'Cozy Corner' where Natalia and the Blond Boy had set up camp in the bean-bags.

"You. Are. Fuckin'. Kiddin'. Me," another woman with dark hair cut in, sounding deeply unimpressed. Arthur turned to face her, angry, and not only because she was swearing in a goddamn _day-care_.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, voice cold. But the woman was not looking at Natalia, she was _glaring_ at him, eyes sweeping from his shoes back up to meet his gaze, her lip curled.

"_You _are Eames' _partner_?" she asked, tone verging on disgust.

Arthur tensed instantly. Unfortunately, he couldn't punch this woman- but he sure as hell wouldn't take any shit from her about being gay, because Christ, on top of being adopted, the last thing Natalia needed was-

"Oh that's just not _fair!"_ cried a plump, mousy haired woman to his left. "And here I was _convinced _he was a single parent!"

Arthur blinked. He frowned, looking at the Dark Haired Woman, who was still eyeing at him in distaste, and the Plump Woman who was now gazing wistfully into the distance.

"I'm sorry?" Arthur asked aloud, feeling a little lost.

A woman carrying a tiny baby on his right gave him a sympathetic smile. "They don't mean to offend, it's just that, well... your Eames is really very charming."

"Not to mention drop-dead-gorgeous," someone muttered, "and that _accent!" _another added, and suddenly the whole group was laughing.

Arthur felt colour rising in his cheeks. This was, undoubtedly, one of the strangest situations he had ever been in.

"I can't believe you thought he was _straight_ Samantha!" the Plump Woman laughed, patting the Dark Haired Woman on the arm. Samantha glared at Arthur, as though it was somehow _his_ fault Eames was gay.

"I can't believe it either," Arthur said quietly, and Samantha positively glowered while the others laughed again.

"Well, I think you make an incredibly handsome couple," said the woman with the baby, smiling, "I'm Amanda, by the way, lovely to meet you."

Arthur returned the smile, thankful that at least one person appeared to be sane. "Arthur," he said in reply, "which is your child?"

"Oh, that'll be Joshua, he's over with Natalia I think actually," she turned to see Natalia and the blond boy playing with the farm-set and nodded, "yep- that's him. They seem to get on really well. Josh won't shut up about Natalia at home- always telling me 'Natalia said this' or 'Natalia doesn't do this'- it's very cute. From the sounds of it, she's an unusually smart kid."

Arthur smiled. He liked this woman. "Yes, she is certainly that."

"Well, any time you fancy, she is welcome at ours for a play-date- you're welcome too if you're free...and Eames." Arthur decided to ignore the way she blushed ever so slightly at Eames' name, and how the other women started whispering.

At the moment, his phone gave a sharp beep, and Arthur pulled it out instantly. A message from Eames.

_Just to let you know I got here safely and am with Cameron. Before you ask, no, he is not accompanied by armed thugs, yes he is armed, but yes, we are in public and __**yes**__, I have checked for bloody escape routes like you insist I should do. There are 6. I think. X_

Arthur felt his mouth tug into a smile. Full sentences, and all the grammar. Eames didn't skimp on anything, even when texting. The jibe about escape routes didn't escape him though, so he sent quickly back-

_One day you will thank me for 'bloody escape routes'. Like when they save your neck. I am at the day-care- what have you been saying to these women? They all seem to be under the false pretence that you're 'charming'. X_

Arthur smiled, and pocketed the phone. It was only when he looked up that he realised all the woman were staring at him. Samantha sighed and said a little too loudly to the Scarily Perfect Woman next to her- "it really is _such_ a waste- I mean, a man like Eames being _gay_ of all things, and he was so nice as well- you just would never have guessed... it's not like he's just _married. Such _a waste, I'm telling you_-"_

"_Was_ that Eames?" the Plump woman asked abruptly, unaware of Samantha, ignoring her friends' embarrassed glances.

Suddenly Arthur was angry. Fuming. What had given these women the right to talk about Eames and him like this?

"Yes," he said, barely controlling his voice but speaking loud enough so that Samantha stopped discussing, "yes that was Eames. He was just letting me know that he has safely arrived at talks with an internationally renowned arms dealer, to discuss the possible theft of several billion dollars worth of highly secretive plans for a Nuclear Weapons Plant in South Korea."

Arthur turned to Amanda, and handed over a simple business card with a curt, "it would be nice to meet-up," gave a wave to Natalia on the other side of the room, and left, leaving the circle of women in stunned silence.

* * *

YES FOR THE I-WON'T-TAKE-NO-SHIT ARTHUR

:D

Hoped you liked it- leave a review if you can!

I'm a sucker for feedback and will take an suggestions for future updates into account xx


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